


There is No One Left to Forgive Us

by skepticallysighing



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Grief, Hallucinations, Insanity, M/M, Multi, Reincarnation, broken henry, deadlight, depressed henry, pennywise - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 10:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13121712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skepticallysighing/pseuds/skepticallysighing
Summary: Henry Bowers breaks out of the asylum, and with a broken mind, he takes one last look around the Derry sewers before going home.





	There is No One Left to Forgive Us

Forgiveness.

That’s what he was looking for, as he wandered through these sewers. It’s all he was looking for.

Sometimes, he wondered if Vic would be down here, sitting down in the dirty water, slumped against a faceless Belch. He wondered if Patrick would crawl down here. With three flowers in his hand, he walked.

Forgiveness.

Henry Bowers wandered through the tunnels. He’d look for the bodies later. For now, he had to find something else first.

He could feel the guilt in his veins.

_He could feel the way Vic’s hand hooked into his, walking at his side.  
_

> _“It’s been a long time,” Vic whispered. “We’ve been waiting here in the darkness for such a long time.”_

Henry couldn’t speak. His lips were sealed together like glue.

> _“I thought you were in the asylum, Henry. Did you escape?”_

_The water rippled with each step Henry took. Vic’s memory floated beside him, the water untouched, and he was quite unsure whether or not Vic really was there._

> _“How far have you wandered, Hank? Why are you here?”_

_He let go of Vic’s hand, and the boy kept behind him._

_The water seemed to float, dripping upwards, and as his white hair began to float, he forgot which way was up. It all floated down here._

> _“This was my home, Henry,” he whispered. “Now, all that remains is my body and the corpses of my home, and a dozen fallen stones singing of forgotten fights. And then, you know, someone abandoned me there. Someone stole my life.”_

Splashes came more frequently as Henry began to run.

> _“Henry, thief, why have you returned?”_
> 
> _“Henry,” Patrick whispered. “Hennnnry, where are you? Where are you, Henry? Wanna eat you **up**.”_

_Something wrapped his ankle, and he was pulled down. He could not scream as he was ripped underwater, eyes huge underneath the thick grey liquids._

_But he did not drown._

_He floated._

_Even as he was pulled deep under the water into the dark sewers, he swore he could see the moon and the stars._

> _“Henry?”_

_Belch murmured weakly, and Henry swore that sitting on the edge of the moon’s crescent was his best friend’s familiar smile._

_Reg._

_He couldn’t say a word._

> _“Henry, is that you?”_

_And his lips moved none._

_Belch glowed like a golden deadlight._

> _“Here, I’m coming now, I’ve got you-”_

_He slipped from the moon, and he was trying to tread through the waters, brows knit up. He was_

_He was sinking_

_Belch could **not**  float._

> _“H-…fuck, I-” he tried to swim, but he sunk down, thick black water swallowing him, “Henry, Henry, help me_

##  _h e l p me_

##  _**don’t leave me to die again-  
**_ _ **Henry, please, please don’t leave me!”**_

_He tried so hard to swim to him, until the water got too deep, and he disappeared in a scattering of bubbles that floated upwards._

_Do not leave me._

And Henry surfaced, gasping for breath in the grey darkness.

> _“Your throne is empty, Henry,” whispered Patrick, smirking down at him. “You’re kingdom vacant.”_

> _“Heeeeeeeenryyyyyy”_
> 
> _“You left meeeee”_

_And it felt stormy and cloudy again. He was certain that ‘down’ was somewhere to his left as rain came pouring down. No, not rain-_

_Vic was the one who tugged his hand, guiding him out of the water, gently pulling him close and turning his head. With his body wrapped up in strong arms, Henry looked down at the water. God, was he floating? He must have been, for water dripped off his feet and into the black liquidy void, where the drowned Belch and the lusting Patrick tried to stay afloat._

> _“The ones that were forgotten by the world have forgotten who they are too,” Vic whispered against his shoulder. “Cursed to walk the sewers forever.”_
> 
> _Henry looked away, he tried to turn away, he wanted to hold Vic._

> _“You’re so foolish, Hank. Have you forgotten too?”_

_Vic let go of him, and he fell into the water, splashing_

_And he kept going, closing his eyes as he fell through the lilac sky, sprinkled with golden deadlights, like stars and candles filling the sewer. And his ankles were smothered in water and bodies. He splashed above the bodies, drifting his way through. Patrick sat in the water, watching him with the biggest eyes, wonderfully gazing up, matching the big-eyed Belch who sat beside him._

> _“You don’t have to go further,” Belch murmured._

> _“You should go further, Patrick said._

_Henry kept going, the corpses of fishes swimming around his ankles. It was so flooded, he could barely move._

> _“There are strange delights ahead, Henry.”_

_As the rain poured down, soaking what was left of him, he reached into his pocket. Protected from the water, he had three flowers in his hand._

_And the rain began to slow._

_Wherever he walked, the deeper he walked, the water receded._

Belch’s corpse was lying on the ground. The face was torn away. This was not the fantasy, the boy who curled up on the top of the moon, only to drown. This was a thirty year old corpse, head slumped sideways. Still wearing that shirt, and those pants.

He laid one of the flowers on his friend.

_The rain was gone, replaced with a soft warm friendly glow. This was nice. This was summer._

“Hey, Reg.”

The corpse did not move.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have left. You were the best friend I’ve ever had. You were always there for me, and I just..I abandoned you.”

The corpse did not move.

_But when Henry walked away, he knew there was someone walking at his side._

There was no more water, it was try as a bone, and he walked ever deeper.

It turned sharply, and he began to stumble down long steep paths.

The light was gone. But it was at his side.

 

Deep.

And deeper still.

 

_Patrick’s corpse wasn’t there, but a silver imitation of the young boy seemed to hover just out of reach._

> _“Long ago, you left them here.”_

“I know.”

> _“You let me wander down into here all by myself.”_

“I know. God, Patrick, I’m so sorry. I should’ve figured something out. You were sick, I should’ve..I should’ve  _helped_  you-”

> _“Henry, we will forever stay in these sewers.”_

Henry held out his flower to the reflection, and the silver hand reached out, snatching it away before disappearing. The mirror was gone, water splashing down and seeping down into the tunnels.

He was alone.

With one flower, he went on.

It was so black he could not see.

 

And then he did.

 

And he wished he could unsee it.

 

Vic’s decapitated corpse, head rolled away across the room.

 

He shakily inhaled, gazing at the corpse for a second before he went and picked up the rotted head, setting it with the body, kneeling down.

 

“Vic?”

 

Vic’s corpse said nothing.

 

“Oh, god. I’m so sorry.”

 

Vic’s corpse said nothing.

 

“I love you.”

 

Tears rolled out and down his cheeks, over his lips, staring.

 

“I never should’ve..I should’ve found a way to protect you. I made you come here. I left you to die.”

 

Vic’s corpse said nothing.

He began to sob.

 

He laid down the flower, over Vic’s chest, shuddering and setting it down.

 

He couldn’t speak, but that’s alright, he didn’t need to.

 

When Henry opened his eyes, he wondered if he was truly broken.

 

_Vic was sitting there, as alive as he ever was, blonde hair floating around his head and eyes kindly focused up at him, lips curled in a smile as he clutched the flower._

_Henry looked up and saw Belch standing there, tall and broad but so distinctly a child, holding a flower in his hand._

_And when a hand clasped on his shoulder, warmly greeting him, it was Patrick. His eyes had never looked so alive and his face had never looked so expressive._

_Belch Huggins, a beam of golden sunlight in a dark forgotten hall, hope in a place without._

_Patrick Hockstetter, a burst of golden fire in a burning forest, killing whatever it touched._

_Victor Criss, an angel with wings bursting huge, golden feathers wrapping around them all._

_Henry Bowers, a young boy with a silly mullet and not a single bruise on his body, surrounded by the boys he loved, who broke into sobs as he beamed and rose up, embracing them tightly._

_They were home._

Somewhere in Derry’s Sewers, there is a skeletal corpse belonging to a giant, and there is a half-eaten corpse belonging to a sociopath, and if you go deep enough, you will find a broken man with white hair who is not as decayed, clutching a handful of weeds, starved to death in front the corpse of a headless boy.

 

_And somewhere deeper, you will find a bunch of children with no parents, no one to hurt them, no one to hurt, curled up in the grass and laughing and being together one last time._


End file.
